Goodbye
by RedRoseKitsune
Summary: This is the story of Katniss' goodbye before she leaves for the Capitol to participate in the Hunger Games to her best friend Gale, told in his perspective.


This was originally a project that I was assigned to do in school. We had to pick a popular book, choose an important scene, and re-write it in a minor character's perspective. I chose The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and re-wrote the scene where Katniss says goodbye to Gale in his perspective.

Enjoy!

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><p>I wait outside the room they've put Katniss in, the room she's deemed to wait in to say a final goodbye to her loved ones before they ship her off to the Capitol.<p>

Right now, the mayor's daughter is with her. What could they be talking about? That girl has no idea what Katniss must be going through. She's never had to fear for her life or work to the brink of exhaustion to keep her family alive…

I sit on a plush red velvet and golden-wrought couch in the equally extravagant hallway of the Justice Building. It's disgusting, how some people live in luxury like this while others are starving. In my age-worn and coal-dusted hunting clothes, I sharply contrast the perfect cleanliness of those in favor of the Capitol. I glance down at my hands tensely folded in my lap, and pick at the dirt crusted on my darkened skin.

After a few more minutes that seem to go on for hours, the door swings open and the mayor's daughter, still clad in her outrageously fancy and expensive reaping dress, is escorted out by the pair of Peacekeepers in charge of watching Katniss. She nods politely to me, meeting my hardened gaze before walking softly down the hall, turning the corner and disappearing from my sight. I hurriedly jump to my feet, eager to see Katniss. After a nod from one of the men, I push past him and rush into the room.

She's sitting on the edge of the couch, her face set in a steely resolve of feigned indifference. I know that look. She's trying to hide her emotions, knowing the Capitol's watching her, not wanting to show them any sign of weakness. Hearing my muffled footsteps on the thick, soft red carpet, her head snaps up and our eyes lock. She struggles to her feet quickly, the exhaustion brought on from the shock of today's events clearly beginning to show in her face.

Without thinking twice, I open my arms to her, and she willingly falls into them, and I pull her close. She rests her head against my chest and listens to my heartbeat. I rest my head on top of hers and breathe in her scent - the smell of the forest, coal, and flowers. She feels so tiny against me, and even though I know how strong, both physically and mentally, she is, she's still just a little girl.

"Listen," I say. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance."

"They don't always have bows," she says, pulling back to look up at me. What's most likely a memory of a previous Hunger Games- probably the year when all the tributes had were spiked maces that they bludgeoned each other to death with- is swimming in her eyes.

"Then make one," I say. "Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all." Katniss' father had made the best bows and arrows in all of District 12. Hopefully Katniss had inherited that skill.

"I don't even know if there'll be wood," Katniss says.

"There's almost always some wood," I say. "Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that." I think back to the year that we watched all the contestants in the Hunger Games freeze to death at night. They didn't have any source of heat, which also meant no source of light, so all we could see were cold, shivering forms curled up on the ground in the darkness. We knew they were dead when the shaking stopped.

The Capitol hadn't been very happy about the outcome of those particular games- too boring, not enough action, and nowhere near enough blood. They want the tributes to suffer in a "theatrical fashion". I think of Katniss out there, alone, cold, tired, fighting for her life while millions of people watch her as a source of entertainment. I feel my blood begin to boil.

"Yes, there's usually some," Katniss says. Usually some what? I remember then that we'd been talking about wood for Katniss to make a hunting bow with.

"Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know," I say. And I mean it. Before I met Katniss, I was just a hungry little boy trapping a few small rabbits in snares in a sad attempt to feed my family. Katniss helped me become a real hunter, a good hunter that could support his family.

"It's not just hunting. They're armed. They think," Katniss says. She fingers the fabric of my shirt nervously and glances up at me again, meeting my gaze, a plea for reassurance reflected in her eyes.

I'm more than willing to give it to her. "So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice," I say. "You know how to kill."

"Not people," she says.

"How different can it be, really?" I say grimly. In all honesty, I believe that she's fully capable of forgetting that the other competitors are people, erasing the fine line that separates them from animals, and hunting them like any other kill. The thought terrifies me.

Katniss bites her lip, the same realization of her capabilities striking her just as it did me. Too soon, the Peacekeepers are back and I desperately ask for more time.

"Please, you don't understand. I might never see her again, please just give me more time!" The weight of my frantic words hits me like a ton of coal, and I realize just how scared I am. How frightened I am of losing her.

One of the Peacekeepers grabs me by the arm and starts to roughly drag me out. Katniss starts to panic. "Don't let them starve!" She cries out, reaching for my hand and gripping it tightly in hers. The calluses that have built up on our hands from years of work rub against each other's roughly. She's still worried about her family, even when she herself is being taken to almost certain death.

"I won't! You know I won't! Katniss, remember I-" I start to say, before the Peacekeeper rips us apart and slams the door in Katniss' face. Now she'll never know what I wanted her to remember.

I turn on the Peacekeeper that caused an abrupt ending to our goodbye, malice burning in my eyes. "How dare you! You don't understand, do you? The _Capitol_," I spit the word out as if it's poison, "is sending her to die, and I can't be with her for another _five minutes_?"

He just gazes at me, his eyes apathetic and unreadable. After a pause, I reflexively lunge for the door, reaching for the handle. But I'm stopped by an arm that quickly wraps around my neck. "Visiting time is up," he states simply, in a monotone voice.

These people really don't get it at all.

I'm escorted by a different Peacekeeper down the hall, around the corner, down the old, rickety elevator that smells like sour milk, and out the door. I walk slowly down the street, away from the building, and when I'm several feet away, I stop and turn to look over my shoulder.

I search for the window of Katniss' room, my eyes quickly flitting back and forth as I glance at row after row of clear crystal glass. I see a flicker of movement- a red velvet curtain has been pulled aside. It's Katniss. She's standing at the window, looking down at me, standing on the street, the flow of people meandering around me. Our gazes lock, and I feel closer to her than ever.

She'll win, I tell myself. There's no way she won't. She promised her mother. She promised Prim. She promised me.

I smile up at her reassuringly, in an attempt to tell her that everything will be alright. She weakly smiles back. With that, I raise my hand in a wave of goodbye before I turn on my heels and start the walk back home to the Seam. The image of Katniss' final smile is burned into my vision, and a tiny fear in the back corner of my mind tugs at my thoughts.

What if it's the last smile of hers I ever see?

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><p>So, what did everyone think? I really enjoyed writing this, and if people like it, I may consider writing other parts of this book or others in this style. Review please!<p> 


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